Dipped in ink
by ficklefrog
Summary: Night after night Quinn falls asleep in Santana's arms. It feels so right, so real. But it isn't. At least not according to Santana.


A/N: This is just a short something. Reviews and comments appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

They lay on their backs in Quinn's queen sized bed, looking up towards the ceiling in the dark room. Quinn rested her head on Santana's arm. Legs touching. Sticking together.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Why did she ask? The answer was always the same. But every so often she still allowed herself to repeat the question. Every time with the faintest hope of a different result.

"No." The answer was short and honest. She pulled Quinn a little closer.

"Why are you never here when I wake up?"

"Because this isn't real," she whispered quietly, still looking at the ceiling.

'_Yes it is. To me anyway__,' _anunvoiced thought replied_. _

"Sleep now Q." She wrapped both arms tightly around Quinn and rocked her gently while softly humming into blond hair.

Quinn felt the warmth of Santana's body envelop her and she realised how tired she was. Reluctantly she gave in and relaxed. She pushed the thought of waking up alone, out of her mind. She'd deal with that in the morning. What she felt now was too good to waste.

Santana carefully untangled herself from Quinn's limp limbs and eased herself out of the bed. Blindly she fumbled for her clothes on the floor and quickly dressed. She found an elastic band in her pocket and put her hair up in a pony tail. Holding her shoes in her hands she walked as quickly and quietly as possible through the Fabray residence. Not until she had closed the door behind her did she put her sneakers on. She hopped on her bike and cycled home in the dark.

Quinn stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying her reflexion. Time to turn into Quinn Fabray. Little by little she created the girl she wanted to present to the world. The hair tightly pulled back in a perky high pony tail, the light make-up that suggested she cared but was still modest, the perfectly ironed Cheerios uniform. To top the image off she fastened a golden cross necklace around her neck.

'This is what's real,' she whispered to her mirror self. 'This is real.'

Santana swiftly climbed up the ladder and onto the Fabray's garage roof. From there she could easily reach Quinn's window and she hauled herself up like she'd done a million times before. Sitting on the window sill she watched as Quinn re-entered the room after washing and brushing her teeth in the bathroom. She looked almost boyish without make-up and her slender body dressed in boxer shorts and tanktop. Something tugged inside Santana.

She unceremoniously stripped down to her underwear and got into bed. She propped up a few pillows and leaned back with her arm held out for Quinn to snuggle up to her. Quinn crawled up and pressed the remote control to the tv, a new episode of Dexter about to start. Santana loved Dexter and Quinn loved.. Well Quinn liked Dexter too.

Quinn's stomach quivered as Santana's fingertips traced across the sensitive skin. Ever so lightly the Latina closed her lips around a light pink nipple. Quinn gasped. Santana's touch feather light and gentle, so utterly contradictory to everything Santana was at school. It all made Quinn's head spin.

"I just like it when you like it," she simply replied when Quinn brought it up one night, lying spent and content in Santana's arms. Santana kissed her forehead.

"Please stay the night."

"Nah Q. Gotta get home. You know..."

"Yes, I know. This isn't real." Quinn stared at the ceiling and swallowed. "Kiss me."

"That I can do." Santana parted her lips slightly and pressed them against Quinn's. Quinn cupped Santana's head in her hands, closed her eyes and felt much too much.

"Lie down on your belly Q and try to go to sleep," Santana gently instructed her.

Propped up on her right elbow, Santana lay on her side stroking Quinn's back. Her fingers traced invisible patterns across smooth pale skin. Tirelessly the tan hand moved back and forth as Quinn's breathing slowed down and shifted into the unmistakable sound of sleep. Certain that Quinn had drifted off, she slowly sat up. Quinn's face looked so young and open when she slept. She could watch it for hours, except she really couldn't. Reluctantly she got up. Santana glanced at Quinn's back. If her fingers had been dipped in ink a moment ago Quinn's back would have been covered with letters. "_It's too real_".


End file.
